The End
by JadedofMara
Summary: Oneshot from Luke's POV as he goes to honor his father after the Death Star II blows up. Firstperson. Formerly called 'The End The Beginning'


My name is Luke Skywalker.

I am dying; I am dead.

Whatever the Emperor threw at me back on the now-destroyed Death Star sears through my bones like fire. I can barely hold my head up; barely accomplish the task, but I must.

I add dead leaves to the top of my little pile of dead sticks, and step back to survey my work. It's not much, and I don't know how the old Order honored their dead, but to me, this seems very fitting. I've never cremated my dead loved ones before, but then, I wasn't a Jedi when Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru and Flip—my old pet nosak—died.

I am satisfied with my bier. I slowly return to my commandeered Imperial shuttle, carefully avoiding any snares of uneven ground. I sprained my ankle yesterday and now it is throbbing and it feels swollen. My ankle and my screaming muscles are definitely not ready to carry a two-meter-tall, armor-encased man the one hundred meters from the ship to the pyre, but they must. I will honor Anakin Skywalker regardless of a loudly protesting body.

As I enter the shuttle and see him there, I see him as three very different people. He is to me at once Darth Vader—the Emperor's Iron Fist—, Father—the man who loved my mother—, and Anakin Skywalker—Jedi of the Old Republic. As I realize this last point, my defiant words to the Emperor—was it really only an hour ago? It feels like many lifetimes—come back to me. _"I am a Jedi, like my father before me."_ I am a Jedi, and as such, my muscles need not protest.

I gently envelop my father's dead body—his corpse, his shell, as Yoda would say, his "crude matter"—with the Living Force, and lift him from his place on the deck. The one hundred meters from the ship to my father's funeral pyre pass quickly, and almost before I have time to think, I am arranging his limbs in the standard pose of death—arms crossed over no longer blinking chest, eyes closed, but staring straight up. His death-mask helmet lies at his feet. I couldn't bring myself to make him wear it again.

My lightsaber serves well as a fire-starter. I'll have to remember that in case I ever need an animal deterrent. My makeshift torch, a mere handful of sticks and twigs, descends almost of its own accord to the bed of kindling on which my father rests. The Endor leaves ignite freely; within seconds, the whole pile is blazing. I watch my father's armor slowly burn and I smile. It must be nice for him to be released from that form-fitting prison that encased him for twenty-six years. A solitary tear works its way down my face, more from the smoke than anything. I am happy for my father; he is free. He would never have been accepted among the Rebels as a changed Vader. Too many people hate him—albeit justly—for his horrific acts of violence. After Alderaan, I'll be surprised if his own daughter—my _sister_ Leia (even after all this time, the idea still gives me chills)—ever forgives him. It is better this way.

The pyre collapses; the embers die. My father, Anakin Skywalker, is honored; all traces of Darth Vader are destroyed. I will come back in the morning with Leia. She needs to see. We can collect what is left of our father. I think I will take his remains to Tatooine, to be near my grandmother, and my aunt and uncle. But that is for the morning. I must return to my friends and family.

"Goodbye, Father," I whisper to the wind and I know, somehow, that he hears me. I reach out to the Force in search of my friends. I feel them; they are closer than I thought. I limp away from the little clearing, and a familiar presence brushes against my mind. It is Leia; she feels me coming. She is with Han; she is happy. She is worried about me; _"Where are you?" _her thoughts seem to ask. _"Are you all right?" _ I smile and send a wave reassurance and some of my happiness to her. I can feel her smile in return.

I have come to the outskirts of the Ewok village. I use the Force to vault onto a catwalk three meters above my head, landing with a particularly burning twinge through my ankle. I can sense that Leia and Han are near the center of the village. I find a vine; I climb up, memories of Dagobah flitting though my head. I find the climb easy with no Master Yoda on my back, but painful. My muscles scream in agony, and as soon as I stop climbing and land on yet another catwalk, they stop, and my ankle starts. I limp forward, turning left, right, right, up one level, and left again. Finally, I see the flickering yellowish light of a campfire around a corner. A long shadow blocks it out. A wide grin comes to my face.

My twin sister flings herself into my arms, and I bite back a cry of pain from my aching muscles. "Luke! You're all right! Oh, I was so worried!" I just smile and hug her closer. Han joins us with a happy, "I still don't see the resemblance, but whatever." Chewie, Lando and Wedge congratulate me; they've all heard the news. The Emperor is dead and everyone thinks I killed him. I tell them, "No. _Vader_ killed the Emperor and then died from his injuries." Leia shoots me a sharp look and my friends reply with a skeptical "Sure, sure." But that is all right; I don't mind. I can sort out discrepancies later.

But everyone is regarding me with thinly veiled fear in their eyes. I don't feel like one of them anymore; I feel like an outsider, like a different species. I slowly back away from my fellow Rebels and lean against a tree, resting my ankle, just watching them. A flash of blue catches my eye. I turn, and I smile; almost laugh.

The ghost of old Ben Kenobi is standing there with Master Yoda, the two of them smiling at me. As I watch them, a third figure materializes. For a moment, I wonder who he is, but then he smiles, and I know exactly who this new apparition is.

It is Father, come to visit me. I laugh, and he laughs back, the two of us sharing joy as we never did when he was alive. Two small warm hands snake their way around me, and I turn to look into the eyes of my sister. She grins at me, I grin at her, and she starts to lead me back to the celebration. I catch her hand, and glance meaningfully at Father. She looks at him, her mouth set in a firm little line, but she does smile, grudgingly. I smile at my father one last time, and follow Leia back to the land of the living. When I look again toward Father, he is gone, as are Ben and Yoda. But I feel their presence still, as I share an embrace with my sister and my (probably) to-be brother-in-law, my injuries forgotten, at least for the moment.

I have witnessed the end of an old life of terror. This is the beginning of a new life of Light.

My name is Luke Skywalker.

I am reborn; I am alive.

Thank the Force.


End file.
